


Vocabulary

by ZiGraves



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-10
Updated: 2013-10-10
Packaged: 2017-12-29 01:26:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/999232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZiGraves/pseuds/ZiGraves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cecil doesn’t stop talking during sex, and Carlos would not want him to. But the way he talks tends to shift and change, gradually falling from elaborate sentences and flowery metaphor into the purest descriptive terms.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vocabulary

**Author's Note:**

> This has no substance at all. It's just a very short bit of smut with some speculation on Cecil's pillowtalk thrown in.

Cecil doesn’t stop talking during sex, and Carlos would not want him to. But the way he talks tends to shift and change, gradually falling from elaborate sentences and flowery metaphor into the purest descriptive terms.

Carlos knows he’s doing well when he stops being “oh, my beautiful and wondrous scientist” and starts being “oh, _beauty_ , yes-!”. The dreadful part of him that is perfectly sober even during the heights of passion wants to take a thesaurus and a highlighter some time, and see how many rapturous adjectives Cecil can get through before he repeats himself.

Such as now.

Carlos has Cecil pinned to the bed with a hand on either wrist, and Cecil is wriggling underneath him in a way that almost, almost distracts even that coldly attentive part of his brain. Not quite, though. Not enough to lose count, and he’s been following Cecil’s words on their descent into handfuls of lost syllables.

“Gorgeous” he’s had, and “wonderful” and “perfection!”, though he started to suspect that Cecil was just putting on a really good act when he came out with “Oh, magnificence!”

The words are getting shorter now, the sighs and moans getting longer and wilder, and Carlos snaps his hips forward in just such a way that drags a whimper of “joyous” out of Cecil in a breathy, lost voice that cannot be an act.

Carlos’ lips are wet with the sweat he has kissed from Cecil’s shoulder, salt-tasting and damp and just out of Cecil’s needy reach no matter how much he twists, but the twisting and bucking is the fun of it, driving Carlos’ hips into new and unexpected patterns in response. Carlos kisses the nape of his neck instead with tongue and teeth, and is rewarded with the sincerest whisper of “sublime” that he thinks has ever been given human voice.

He slows, grinding deep in Cecil, the points of his hipbones meeting the soft flesh of Cecil’s ass in a way that will almost certainly be tender and bruised later. Cecil pants and writhes, and moans “ah, ahhhh, _delight_ -” in a desperate way that should surely see the word excised from the dictionary as an obscenity.

Carlos doesn’t like to make much noise during sex. Too aware that his voice is not the caramel and oak Cecil proclaims it to be, it is all he can do to murmur the occasional encouragement to Cecil instead. He nips gently at Cecil’s ear, one hand releasing Cecil’s captured wrist and stealing down, down, slipping in beneath him to cradle Cecil’s cock against the harsh friction of the bedsheets. He’s rewarded, not with an adjective, but with a desperate whine of need that goes straight to his hips without consulting his brain first.

Cecil pushes up against him with another wordless, plaintive moan and it’s nearly enough, Carlos is nearly there, tasting Cecil’s pulse beneath his lips and the heat of his body everywhere, underhand, along their tangled legs, and especially, oh, especially his cock which responds to Cecil’s voice as though it was made for nothing else. Nearly, nearly, so close, but it’s not till his hand tightens on Cecil’s cock and he brings himself to hiss in Cecil’s ear that he is there.

“Come for me,” he begs, and Cecil does in a twitching, drawn out wail of the one thing Carlos needs to hear before he can follow over that edge.

“ _Carlos_ -” Cecil groans, the syllables dripping liquid from his tongue in pieces, his body tensing and tightening, all his words finally lost except for this one last. And Carlos is gone at last, bucking in a last few frantic thrusts that make Cecil groan all the more before they are both done, too wrung out to even roll out of the wet patch on the sheets.

The sober little voice in his head is wisely silent, but in a few minutes Carlos gathers himself enough to smugly observe that Cecil has never, not once, managed anything other than his name when he comes. _Beauty_ and _delight_ are nothing on Cecil’s lips compared to _Carlos_.

**Author's Note:**

> I have a tumblr. It's zigraves.tumblr.com if you would like to find it.


End file.
